“What’s that?” he whispered to George.
Michael thought he spoke too low for George to hear, being fearful of waking Sally, but he responded quietly.
“It’s a sextant and it’s used for navigating by the stars” he said.
Michael had heard the old saying, “to take a star,” not knowing how or what was used to take a star. George was in the act of raising the sextant to his eye, when the Dayang suddenly cried, “Captain, listen!”
“What do you hear?” he asked.
“Just listen!” he answered, in a breathless voice.
They strained their ears, but nothing was audible to Michael but silence. “Don't you hear it, Captain?” he cried, in a kind of agony, pointing with his finger. “Don't you hear something, lad?”
There was another interval of silence, and Sally answered, “I hear a kind of throbbing.”
Michael thought she was asleep, so it came as a surprise when she answered Dayang’s question.
“It is so!” George exclaimed. “I hear it now! It is the engines of a steamer.”
“A steamer? Yeah! That’s what the sound is” Dayang admitted.
They strained their ears again. That throbbing sound, as Sally had accurately described it, closely resembling the rhythmical running of a locomotive-engine Michael had heard in Australia. Because it was a silent night, the sound was now distinctly audible, but it was impossible to tell how far away the vessel might be. Once more they inclined their ears, holding their breath as they listened.
“There she is!” cried Dayang
Everyone had gathered around in anticipation of being rescued at last. The group saw not only the shadow of a vessel down in the south-east, but the smoke and a red glow coming from her funnel was clearly evident against the backdrop of the stars. Michael ran for the hurricane lamp and picked it up, intending to swing it around.
“Quickly, build up that fire. They may be able to see that someone is on this island” shouted George, issuing the order.
Michael waved the hurricane lamp furiously, trying to attract their attention, but there was no need to wave it any longer. Soon the shadow grew into a defined shape and the craft drew nearer and nearer and the throbbing of the engines louder and louder. It was now a long, black hull with its funnel pouring a dense volume of smoke, spotted with fire-sparks. The tall masts and rigging was evident and Michael could now hear the water spouting out of its side and the blowing off of the safety-valve.
“It’s probably a Dutch naval vessel” George suggested.
The sound of the motor ceased and they could hear the rattle of the anchor chain being lowered. That was followed by a loud splash then two more; probably longboats being lowered into the water.
Soon a voice called out as several longboats approached, “Ahoy.”
“Ahoy” George replied.
“What are you doing here?” the voice asked.
“We’ve been shipwrecked and we’re trying to get to Batavia” George retorted.
The voice sung out again: “How many are there of you?”
George answered: “Seven men and two ladies.”
The naval men with rifles swarmed out of the three longboats, completely surrounding them. The shipwrecked group was overpowered, with the Dutch taking possession of their boats and immediately seizing on all their property. They were then taken back to their ship.
Michael looked up the very high side of the steamer, into a crowd of men assembled round the gangway, their faces barely visible.
The voice that had first addressed us said: “Are you strong enough to get up the ladder? If not, we'll sling you onboard.”
George answered that if a couple of hands would come down into the boat so as to help the two ladies and him, the other men would manage to get on board without assistance. A short gangway-ladder was lowered, and two men ascended the ladder and stepped into the ship. Two of the Dutch crew then descended to assist us.
“Take that lady first” Michael said, pointing to Sally.
Michael felt horribly sick not knowing what was going to happen to them, and he had to exert all his power to keep his voice steady. They stood Sally up and looped the sling under her arms before giving the signal to haul her up. Michael climbed the ladder while she was being hauled up; wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her. Connie was then hauled aboard, followed by George and soon the forlorn group was standing on the deck of the Dutch ship. The Dutch galliot is a somewhat peculiar craft to the eye of an Australian; heavy and clumsy-looking, but a good sea-boat. The galliot looks much the same, whether you regard her from stem or from stern, both being almost equally rounded. She has scarce any keel and her deck is flat, the hull broad and deep and a very wide rudder. Hung on each side is a large lee-board, to keep her from making too much leeway. Her bulwarks are lofty, and a large cabin is placed aft, where the captain and his family live; the perfect vessel for the shallow waters of the Thousand Islands.
“The women need medical attention, is there a doctor on board?” George asked.
“There’s a nurse onboard and she’ll look after them. I have to ask you all to come below decks” he said forcefully.
“Where are you taking us?” he asked when he noticed our three craft were set on fire and released onto the calm water.
“You will be placed in quarantine on Onrust Island. You must come below now” he stressed.
“It is true that fever and dysentery are rife on Onrust Island?” Michael asked George, beginning to stress out.
“Skin diseases abound in most jails and the air is saturated with a poison that bites into every pore, cut, or abrasion and plants every disease known to man” he admitted.
“Jail?” he asked hesitantly.
“Being in quarantine is worse than being in jail, but we will eventually be released and free to go to Batavia” he said sadly. “I hope we can last the three months there.”
* * *
The next morning the whole group was summoned on deck as the anchor lowered into the shallow waters around an island. As they stood there on the deck Michael noticed this Galliot was rigged with square sails on her mainmast, a fore and aft main-sail, a gaff mizzen and mizzen gaff top-sails, and a high bowsprit. Her sails were tanned; but he wasn’t sure if he approved or admired its shape. Garjarja and Ameya had been nervous all night, because they too had heard wild tales about Onrust Island.
“What are you – pirates or traders?” the captain asked George.
“We are traders, sir” he said firmly. “We were on our way to fill our vessel with rubber, but we were caught in a violent storm. Several of the crew was lost, along with our captain.”
“And who was your captain?” he asked curiously.
“Francis James Scott” Connie piped up, before someone mentioned his pirate name.
“And who are you?” he asked.
“Constance Kane, sir. We were lovers” she admitted.
“Well Constance Kane, I’ve never heard of a trader called Francis James Scott” he said scoffing at the name.
“He’s an Englishman and he had only just begun to trade. He didn’t know the waters around here and that’s why we became shipwrecked” she mentioned tartly.
Garjarja and Ameya were becoming more and more nervous as they listened to the conversation, but not really understanding it. They could see the mainland of Java was very close; probably only about one or two miles away.
“Ngayon” Ameya shouted.
The two men ran and dove into the water and began swimming.
“Silly fools, the water around here is full of sharks. Instead of burying the bodies on Cemetery Island, we feed them to the sharks. Quite a deterrent, don’t you think?” he laughed.
The men on the deck watched with horror when one man declared he saw the fin of a shark. A shark is at all times an object of horror to a sailor and those who have seen the destructive jaws of this voracious fish can testify to their immense and almost incredible power. The rest of the rescued
group thought they might actually make it to safety when the shark just began to circle the swimming men. A second shark joined in the behavioral circling and, before long, they could see there were fifteen fins surrounding them. At first the sharks did not seem inclined to seize their prey, but swam in close to the men, playing in the water and rubbing against their, now still, victims. A loud shriek from one of the men announced his sudden pain; a shark had seized him by the foot and severed it entirely from the leg. Once they tasted blood it wasn’t long before the dreaded attack took place. Another and another shriek proclaimed a loss of limbs before the two men were dragged under, never to be seen again.
“Please help them” Connie gasped.
“They’re beyond help. Does anyone else want to try to escape?” he gaffed. “Whatever you have heard, you won’t be placed with the medical quarantine patients. You will be fed and looked after. Once we have assessed all of you, we will send you on to Batavia to work in the plantations. Now you must get in the longboats and go ashore. By the way, I’m Johann Schlingher, the captain of this fine vessel.”
The women had been looked after as well as expected, while George had his broken arm set properly. Once everyone was accommodated in two longboats the fit men helped to row over to the jetty. From what Michael remembered from history lessons, Java and the rest of Indonesia changed from the Cultivation System to the Liberal System around the 1870’s. Java fared better than the rest of Indonesia, but tens of thousands of Javanese still perished in the 1880’s. The main reason the system partly failed was the lack of farming land suitable for rice production. Still, the new system literally dragged Java out of the dark ages of local trade and built a world-class economy.
Chapter 18
Part 2
Six weeks later
The shipwrecked sailors were finally on their way to old Batavia, which had evolved into the capital of the Dutch colony and earned its name ‘Queen of the east’. Michael had never heard of that name, but he had worked it out it could have been the name the Dutch gave the city before it was renamed Jakarta Kota. There were seven of them left, but they unsure if all of them had been designated work on the same plantation. Michael’s future was undecided, but at least he was going to be with Sally, once again, who was going to work at the plantation with him. Connie was going to The Willem 3rd School, which opened up in 1860 and they required English speaking women to teach the children. Michael remembered that up to the 1870s, around 80% of the total exports from the Dutch East Indies went to the Netherlands. This was the direct result of the Cultivation System where the Dutch government sought to expand Javanese export production and send it exclusively towards the Netherlands. Production and export in the Batavia colony was under strict government control. When the Cultivation system ended, the developing plantation industry shifted more and more to the private enterprise. The tariff liberalization and the export share to the Netherlands dropped remarkably, while internal Asian exports rose. As an entry-port for free trade, Singapore shipped most of the Dutch East Indies exports landing on its dock and then onto other destinations, mainly to the USA.
Everyone had heard the whispers around them while they were in quarantine that there was a Malaria epidemic in Batavia. Michael had managed to concoct a mixture of eucalyptus oil and lemon grass to keep these tiny blood-suckers at bay and he had covered his skin with it, much at the disgust of his colleagues. No matter how much he tried, no one except Sally would believe him when he explained how the essential oils worked and she had even applied some the mixture to her bare skin. New citizens were encouraged to move far south of the port, so that’s where they were going. Coffee plants and sugar cane were the two crops forced on the plantation owners during the cultivation era, but the smaller plantations were being joined together as a co-operative under private ownership. More crops were planted after the Agrarian Law issued in 1870 and the plantation company could expand its business in the State-owned land with a very long term attached.
The province of Bandang was well inland and coffee was grown in the rich volcanic soils. They were going to be paid in Dutch East Indies Guilders, but Michael doubted the money they earned would amount to a fortune; he believed the going rate was about seven guilders per week. The steamer they were on was more like a barge and, after they entered the Ciliung River, the captain docked at a loading jetty.
“Dirk Janssen, Lieven Mesman, Erik Bakker, Ignass Rynsburger will be escorting six people to Penglengan. Martine de Jong and Klasina Meijer will escort the Miss Constance to the school. There are two wagons ready to depart for Penglengan, so you all must go now” he said as clearly as he could. “And YOU TWO need to take a bath!”
“The oil on our skin is to keep the biting insects away. We smell so bad they stay away from us” Michael joked.
“Yea, I know what you mean” added Dayang, wrinkling his nose and stepping away from them.
The two smelly bodies were actually happy to be delegated together on the back of the tray of the first wagon, so they said their sad goodbyes to Connie and jumped aboard. The six buffalo drawing the wagons were slow, but Michael couldn’t care less because he was with his girlfriend. Their first stop for the night was going to be Cisarua, roughly forty miles as the crow flies.
“Are there any mosquitoes biting you two?” Dirk Janssen sneered as he slapped another black devil.
“No, because they would rather seek fresh blood and stay away from stinky bodies” Michael laughed, hoping they wouldn’t force him to give up his bottle of repellant.
As they ventured further away from the coast the swarms of mosquitoes dispersed and the guard’s moods lightened. Java was as close to perfect as Michael could imagine. All of them had survived a severe bout of dysentery, but he had suffered the worst. At times he was too weak to walk, so Michael had to crawl to and from the latrines. The men around him had been clearly attracted to the Malay women and he had seen them creeping away to be with them. Michael had seen very little of Sally during the past month, but she appeared to be accepting her new role of nursemaid.
All of them had been briefed on what was expected when they reached their destination. The total area of the three plantations they were heading for was 300 acres. They didn’t only produce coffee, but also cloves and various woods, while employing 100 workers. Farming coffee is more labor-intensive than other types of major food crops. Coffee beans must be picked, processed, dried and roasted on the coffee plantation, before being sent on to Batavia. This is one of the reasons that coffee plantations were a historical venue for forced labor and slavery. Even though this group was ‘forced paid labor’, technically everyone had a choice of keep working in the field or fend for themselves after their three months’ probation. Michael knew all the other men wanted to return to Avilla as soon as they could, but he didn’t have any ties with the place.
* * *
They arrived in Cisarua as the sun was setting. They were allowed to bathe; or more importantly, ordered to bathe to get rid of the terrible smell on their skin. The Malay women had prepared their food, so they ate with relish when they were clean. The group was provided a house with three bedrooms to sleep in for their brief stop and, with luck, he and Sally shared one of them.
Sally stood only a few feet away now and Michael could smell her fresh womanly scents.
“Michael, I want us to forget what has happened. The most important thing now is that we have each other” she whispered.
“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, his mind in a state of confusion.
“More than anything, because this moment means so much to me. That’s why I’m here today to show you that we belong together. I’ll show you how much” she whispered huskily.
Her fingers went to her buttons and quickly her dress shimmered to the floor, then she slowly lowered her panties. She was naked.
“Do you believe me now?” she purred.
She was beautiful. No she was more than beautiful; she was absolutely stunning standing th
ere in the moonlight.
“Yes…yes I believe you now” he whispered, too mesmerized to say anything else.
She moved closer to him and she held his head in her hands and kissed him.
“Get undressed now” she whispered. “And hurry!”
She watched as Michael undressed and when he was naked she took his hand and led him to the single bed in the corner of the tiny room.
“You won’t forget me now, will you?” she enquired desperately.
“I can never forget you Sally” he replied. “I’ll never forget you……….Saleeeee.”
* * *
“Michael, wake up. Please wake up!” someone asked.
Sally’s naked image was already beginning to fade, only to be replaced by a thick fog.
“Sally! Sally!” he cried. “I need you Sally!”
“I’m here Michael” someone whispered.
“Mum, is that you?” Michael asked desperately, trying to reach out to someone, anyone.
“Yes it’s me. Open your eyes, darling. Please open your eyes, son” she stressed.
The stab of pain he felt when he tried to open them made him quickly shut them again. Michael tried to open them again and he felt the same stab of pain, but he slowly the feeling subsided as his eyes began to focus. The fog began to slowly clear as his eyes adjusted to the light.
“Oh darling, it’s so good to have to back” she cried as she kissed his forehead.
“Where am I, Mum?” Michael whispered hoarsely.
“You’re in the General Hospital” she explained, before adding, “You’ve been in a coma for nearly three months.”
“I’m in hospital and I’ve been in a coma?” he mumbled sadly. “Sally was just a dream, just a dream.”
“Who’s Sally?” she asked.
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